


Identity Theft is Not a Joke, Malfoy

by brooooooooooooke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Male Character, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Male Character, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Never Have I Ever, No Sex, No Smut, Polyjuice Potion, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooooooooooooke/pseuds/brooooooooooooke
Summary: Your basic Hogwarts 8th year fic. Draco wants to finish school without the unwanted attention his name brings, so he pulls a Barty Crouch Jr and pretends to be someone else. How was he supposed to know he'd actually enjoy being friends with Harry and the other Gryffindors?*just fyi, the spell draco uses was inspired from another fic i read which title i cannot remember
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley - background, Neville Longbottom & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 271





	1. Chapter 1

Draco stopped his pacing to once more review his face in the mirror. Unfamiliar light brown hair, tanner skin. Dark brown eyes met his, blinked when he did. Sucking in air in an attempt at a deep breath, Draco ran through his plan in his head again. _Connor. Connor Michaelson. That's what you answer to, now._ Damn, this was going to be difficult. He could trust McGonagall to be discreet, though, couldn't he? She had always been fair to everyone in Slytherin house. 

All too soon, it was time to leave the house. Draco hoped the headmistress would allow him to move in early as he had requested. He couldn't stand being in this house any longer than necessary. It still reeked of death and dark magic. Narcissa already had plans to move to a small flat in America, so Draco didn't have to worry he was leaving his mother to rot in this horrid place. But enough stalling. Time to go.

\----

Stepping into the headmistress' office, Draco was greeted with a welcoming smile from McGonagall herself. Carefully steadying his breathing, Draco took her outstretched hand and sat across the desk from her.

"Mr. Michaelson. Nice to finally meet you in person," she stated warmly.

Draco attempted to match her enthusiasm. "Hello, Headmistress. As you know from my owl, there are still some issues regarding my application that I wish to discuss with you."

"Of course. Care for a biscuit, Michaelson?" McGonagall slid a small plate across her desk towards her supposedly new student.

"No, thank you." Draco didn't think his dry throat would be able to handle it without choking. "I was wondering if you would allow me to move in early."

Seeing his old professor's face twist in obvious confusion, Draco knew he had come to the part of his pre-scripted plan where he had to be completely honest. With a deep, shuddering breath, Draco raised his wand and undid the spell morphing his body. After a few seconds, his white-blond hair, pale skin, and gray eyes were revealed. Doing his best to maintain eye contact, Draco managed the words, "As you can see, I'm in a bit of a predicament."

His reveal was met with shocked silence. Realizing the headmistress was letting him explain, Draco continued. "Prof- Headmistress, I'm sure you know how the wizarding world sees my family. I desperately wish to complete my schooling properly, but I fear I cannot do that if the other students, or even the staff, know who I am." He was looking at his hands resting in his lap at this point. "Over the summer holidays, Mother and I developed a spell that would simulate the effects of polyjuice potion without it wearing off every few hours. The face you saw me take earlier is that of an American muggle boy who I figured no one would recognize." Draco cut himself off, hoping McGonagall would break the anxious silence. 

After a tense moment, Headmistress McGonagall spoke. "Well, Mr. Malfoy. I am surprised, but I must also say that I am impressed. That level of magical ingenuity cannot go un-praised." Draco looked up, stunned, as his old professor continued. "If you truly wish for no one to know your true identity during your eighth year, I suppose I cannot fault you. It takes a great deal of courage for you to finish your schooling, and I support you." 

Draco could hardly believe the kind response. He had expected a bit more resistance, to be completely honest. He voiced this concern out loud.

"Mr. Malfoy, you do realize this spell isn't going to be some fix-all, don't you? The eighth-years will all be sharing a common room, as you are all of age and should be treated as such. Also, since not all of you are returning, Professor Flitwick and I decided it would be better to reconfigure an unused wing of the castle instead of extending the four main dormitories."

Draco's eyes widened when he realized what she was saying. "So, I will be rooming with the Gryffindors?"

"Yes, and the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins who decide to return. This will not be a problem, will it?" She fixed him with a stern not-quite-glare, and Draco quickly assured her he could handle a little inter-house unity.

Noticing the uncertainty in his voice, McGonagall seemed to take pity on him. "Would you like to see the list of eighth-years returning so you can mentally prepare yourself?" said the headmistress knowingly. Draco nodded his head in gratitude. The headmistress took out a piece of parchment, pushed it towards Draco, and he watched as a spelled quill began making a list on the paper in front of him.

  * _Abbot, Hannah_
  * _Boot, Terrence_
  * _Brocklehurst, Mandy_
  * _Corner, Michael_
  * _Goldstein, Anthony_
  * _Granger, Hermione_
  * _Li, Sue_
  * _Longbottom, Neville_
  * _Macmillan, Ernie_
  * _Parkinson, Pansy_
  * _Patil, Padma_
  * _Patil, Parvati_
  * _Potter, Harry_
  * _Thomas, Dean_
  * _Turpin, Lisa_
  * _Weasley, Ronald_
  * _Zabini, Blaise_



Then, at the bottom of the list,

  * _Michaelson, Connor_



_Wait,_ thought Draco. _There are so many Gryffindors! And only three Slytherins._

McGonagall chuckled. "I'm sure you've noticed that every Ravenclaw student is returning. As was expected." Draco hadn't noticed. He was too busy glaring at Potter's name. McGonagall continued, either not noticing where his focus lay, or just ignoring it. "Your story is that you are an American exchange student, yes? How do you plan to pull that off convincingly?"

Dragging his thoughts away from Potter's stupid hair, Draco responded. "Fath- Lucius occasionally had business over in the United States, so I've learned to mimic their accent," Draco mumbled, hoping McGonagall had missed his fumble, tugging down his left sleeve to his wrist. He tried not to think of Lucius as his father anymore, trying to distance himself as far as he could from that old lifestyle he so desperately wanted out of. Graciously, the headmistress made no comment on it. 

"I suppose it's settled, then."

"It is?"

"Yes," she said with a small smirk. "I expect you to be fully moved in by the weekend."

Draco did his best to hold back the emotion clawing up from his throat. It was happening! He could get through this. Just one year. It would be fine.

\----

It was absolutely not fine. As the start-of-year feast came closer, Draco's nerves had plenty of time to build up to insane levels. Even with frequent floo calls to Blaise and Pansy, Draco had been alone with his anxiety for two long weeks, and it was eating him alive. How could he face any of his classmates after everything he'd done? Sure, they wouldn't know it was him, but somehow that was worse. They wouldn't look at him with disgust, nor would they corner him in the bathroom trying to hex his face off. No, instead, they'd probably be _nice_. They'd want to befriend him. Draco didn't think he'd be able to stand it. 

After a long, emotional floo call with his mother, Draco was able to calm down a bit, but he figured it wouldn't last. The feast was tomorrow. He'd be introduced to everyone again. As Connor. _Connor._ Draco still wasn't used to that. He didn't know if he ever would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to meet harry...again

Being of age definitely had its perks. Each eighth-year student had their own private room in the shared dormitories. Draco was especially grateful of this, as he wouldn't have to sleep as Connor. Sitting on the edge of his four-poster bed, Draco combed a hand through his disheveled hair and looked in the mirror again. He missed his cheekbones. Weird.

Draco entered the Great Hall just as other students were beginning to file in from the carriages. Making his way over to the eighth-year table, Draco tried (see failed) to avoid eye contact with anyone he might recognize. Of course, his eyes were immediately drawn to Weasley's fiery head and Granger's dark mess of curls. They were walking very close together, probably holding hands. As they sat down at the table near him, Granger flashed him a friendly smile. Draco felt like he was going to be sick. She had received the worst of his bullying, aside from Potter. The foul names, the abuse, the physical torture from his psychotic aunt. Draco managed a grimace before he had to look away. This was going to be a long night.

Suddenly, a familiar (and very welcome) body sat on his right. Without even looking, Draco recognized Pansy immediately. With a sigh of relief, he turned and pretended to introduce himself. Pansy played along, knowing in-depth of his plan. Keen eye that she has, Granger quickly noticed how quickly he seemed to take to Pansy. Reaching across the table, Granger stuck out her hand. "Hi! I'm Hermione, and I noticed you're new. Are you the exchange student the teachers were talking about?"

And really, Draco shouldn't have been surprised. Of course Granger knew he'd be here. He forced a grin and used his best American accent. "Hey. Connor. Nice to meet you, Hermione, was it?" This seemed to catch Weasley's attention, who turned quickly and introduced himself as well. Draco would have to get used to using their first names. That will be difficult. 

Eventually, Draco--Connor--was introduced to the entire table. Just as Draco was beginning to notice something was missing, Potter plopped down directly across from him next to Gr- Hermione. Draco rolled his eyes. Of course Potter was late. Probably stopped along the way to rescue a kitten or something dumb like that. 

Draco could tell Potter was trying to make eye contact with him, but he didn't trust himself to be able to have a proper conversation yet with the git, so he pretended to be absorbed in Blaise and Pansy's conversation. Until, that is, Potter's hand was shoved in front of his face, drawing Draco's eyes up to Potter's bright smile. Draco couldn't remember Potter ever smiling at him like that before. It was quite off putting. Shaking himself from his stupor, Draco reached out and grasped Potter's hand before it got too awkward.

"Harry. Nice to meet you."

"Connor. Likewise." 

Just because Potter didn't know who he was didn't mean Draco couldn't have a little fun. He made sure to be as brief as possible, not showing any indication that he knew who any Harry Potter was. Draco broke eye contact as quickly as he could without arising suspicion, but not before seeing a surprised, pleased look on Potter's face. That wasn't what he wanted. He thought Potter would hate not being recognized. Huh. He'll have to look into that later. For now, though, the feast was about to begin, and Draco had skipped lunch due to nerves. He was famished.

\----

All too soon, the feast was finished and the students were led to their dorms. As the eighth-years stumbled en mass back to their new common room, Draco stumbled in shock as Potter's arm was thrown over his shoulders.

"So you're really from America?" Potter seemed a little drunk on pumpkin juice.

"I am indeed."

"Wha's it like then, mate?"

"Well, it's much hotter."

"Yeah, I can see that," Potter fired back with a wink. Draco stumbled again, eyes wide. _Why on earth is Potter flirting with me? Does he normally go around flirting with people he's just met? I thought he was with Weasley's sister? What is happening? Shit, I need to say something; I'm just staring!_

"Sorry Po- Harry, green-eyed twinks aren't really my type," Draco said with a smirk. He was good with banter. This was fine.

To his surprise, Potter didn't seem the least bit offended at his harsh teasing. Instead, he threw back his head and let out a single gasp of laughter. "Oh I'm gonna like you, aren't I?" 

Draco smiled back, hiding his rampaging thoughts. Was it really this easy to befriend Harry Potter? How had he managed it in barely two hours when his younger self hadn't managed in six years? _It's because you were a prat, Malfoy._ Yeah, yeah, shut up. 

\---

During the first month of classes, Draco realized some very important facts.

1\. Hermione was a great study partner.

Draco often found himself up late with her in the library, and he found that he didn't actually mind her company. When either of them hit a mental block, the other was there to explain their way out of it. 

2\. Potter wasn't actually an arrogant git.

He had only been one to Draco because they were rivals. In fact, Potter was actually infuriatingly nice. To everyone, including Draco. Potter would bring him an extra apple to class on mornings Draco hadn't been able to drag himself out of bed and go down to breakfast. Potter would walk Lovegood to her classes sometimes so people wouldn't bother her. He would bring Granger and him bottles of ice water when they had spent too long in the library.

3\. Weasley was surprisingly smart.

Not with books, mind, but with strategy. He could out-play Blaise in wizard chess, something Draco used to think impossible. Now, he would sit next to Weasley as the latter explained each move he made against Blaise during their latest game. 

By the end of the first month, Draco realized that he was friends with the golden trio. Actual, proper friends with them. And it wasn't just them. All the eighth-years seemed to get along. More often than not, Draco would find Pansy and Lisa Turpin curled up on a couch in the common room doing each other's hair, sometimes with Hermione. Terry Boot and Longbottom had set up a small plant station in the corner by the window near the bean bags. Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, and the Patil twins were often found lounging on the floor in the middle of the common room, playing some game or another. 

Slowly, Draco was managing the guilt he felt from interacting with his classmates. It wasn't easy, though. Talking with Potter--no, he was supposed to be Harry now--was a blessing and a curse, because

4\. Draco maybe had a slight crush on Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yay some angst lol

Of course he had a crush on Harry bloody Potter. Everyone else did. Draco would sometimes catch clusters of sixth-years whispering as they passed Harry in the corridors, trying to quiet their giggles. Second-years would watch him pass in awe. Draco even noticed that Dean's and Parvati's eyes would sometimes linger a bit too long on the boy who lived. And it made Draco livid. Why did he have to fall into this like everyone else had? He didn't deserve to like Harry, not after the shit he pulled the last few years. He didn't even deserve to be his friend, but Draco doubted Harry would've given up on befriending him, and now it was clearly too late.

They spent nearly every day together, and it was getting harder and harder for Draco to hide. More than once, Harry had looked at him in confusion after Draco let out a bit of sarcastic banter that sounded too much like his old insults. Of course, this time, it was in jest, but Draco was still so nervous that Harry would one day figure it out and never speak to him again. Now that Draco had gotten the chance to know Harry as a friend, there was no way he could go back to the Harry that hated him. It would kill him.

\----

Draco had gotten too comfortable. He forgot to take his nightly dose of dreamless sleep, and he woke up to a sore throat and clammy skin. He pulled his t-shirt up over his mouth and nose, gasping for air and trying to stop hyperventilating. When he eventually brought his breathing back to normal, there was nothing to stop the tears. He hadn't had a nightmare like that since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and his mother was finally allowed to make him those sleeping potions.

Eyes closed, Draco could still see the pale outline of a serpentine face with burning red eyes, so he hauled himself out of bed, resigned to pulling an all-nighter. Draco carefully crept downstairs, and he barely managed to stifle a gasp as he saw a shadowy figure sitting in one of the corner bean bag chairs. Draco slowly stepped closer, with a softly-whispered _Lumos,_ until he was close enough to make out...

"Harry?"

"...Hey, Connor. Couldn't sleep, either?"

"No. Forgot to take my dreamless sleep."

Wordlessly, Harry patted the bean bag next to him, and Draco settled into it. Neither seemed keen to break the silence, so both boys sat quietly by the window, faces illuminated by one of Neville and Terry's glowing plants. 

After about twenty minutes, Harry spoke quietly. "Why have you never asked?"

Draco knew Harry was talking about his fame. He had been around Harry too much to say he hadn't noticed the stares, the comments, the "thank you"s. He didn't know how to respond without sounding suspicious. 

"Figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

A pause. "You guys in the U.S. know who Voldemort is, right?"

And Draco let Harry tell him everything. He started with the Dursley's, and Draco tried to hold back his emotions. He really did. But when Harry told him about the cupboard, about the shouted abuse, he couldn't help himself. He stood up, motioned for Harry to scoot over, and wordlessly shoved himself onto the same bean bag as Harry, their legs pressed together from hip to ankle. Draco ignored his nerves as he wound his arms around Harry's shoulders and urged him to continue. After a moment, Harry twisted his torso so he could lay his head on Draco's chest, his arms wrapped around the taller boy's middle. They laid like that for a moment before Harry quietly continued his story. He talked of the three-headed dog beneath the castle, the giant basilisk in the pipes, Sirius, the dementors, Cedric, the prophecy (Draco hid his shudder at the thought of what Lucius almost did to his classmates), Dumbledore's horcrux hunt, the final battle. Draco stayed silent through the whole thing, grunting occasionally to indicate he was listening. Even though he had been present for most of what happened, he had never heard the true stories of what happened from Harry himself. He'd had no idea. 

When Harry finished, he looked completely worn out, but he also looked lighter. _Has he never told these stories out loud?_ Yet again, Draco was met with the crushing guilt that he had been the cause of so much of Harry's pain. Harry had needed someone to talk to, and he'd only just gotten that now. Of course, Harry decided to look at him before Draco was able to remove the emotions painted on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. ...It's just, there was someone back home. Someone I made life very hard for. I just wish I'd been this person for him, too."

"Well, whoever you were, I'm glad you're this person for me now."

Draco smiled. "Yeah, I know there's no point in wanting to change the past."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't want it." Harry seemed hesitant to elaborate, but Draco was too curious.

"What do you mean? What would you want to change?"

Harry sighed. "There was a boy on the other side of the war. We were enemies basically from the first moment we met. Hated each other." Draco flinched slightly. "I know now he was forced by his father and the rest of his family to comply with Voldemort. I didn't know then. We treated each other like rubbish. In sixth year, it got so bad that I'd follow him around the castle instead of going to my classes. I'd try to catch him doing something illegal, or whatever. Then, I made a mistake."

Harry stopped talking, and Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the rest. He knew what followed; the scars were a great reminder. But he finally felt like they were getting somewhere. "What happened," Draco whispered into Harry's dark hair.

"Connor, I nearly killed him." Harry was crying now. "I used a spell I didn't understand and he almost bled out on the bathroom floor, and I didn't know how to fix it. I froze." Harry paused to wipe his nose and take a shaky breath. "The next time we spoke, he saved my life. He refused to identify me to his father and Voldemort. I saved his life a few times during the final battle. I was trying to make up for what I'd almost done, trying to get the guilt to leave me alone, but it never went away. It still hasn't."

Harry was nearly sobbing at this point, and Draco couldn't take it anymore. He placed his hands on either side of Harry's face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault. He probably deserved it, and even if you think he didn't, it sounds like you've more than made up for it." Harry pitched his head forward and rested it against Draco's forehead. "You are not a bad person, Harry," Draco managed.

Harry sobbed once, burying his head in Draco's shoulder and neck. Neither spoke for the next few minutes, just holding each other, Draco slowly caressing the distressed boy's back comfortingly. Harry's muffled sobs quieted, his breathing slowing. Draco gently cast a levitation charm on his sleeping friend and helped him up the stairs to his room. He looked so small, curled up in his bed. Draco could almost imagine eleven-year-old Harry sleeping in that awful cupboard, and maybe that's what decided it. Draco crawled into the bed next to Harry, curling protectively around him. Neither boy woke until the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> party chapter

"Harry. _Harry!_ " Draco woke abruptly to the sound of Ron's voice, belatedly realizing something bad was probably happening. 

"Wha's hapning?" Harry mumbled into Draco's chest sleepily, not bothering to look at Ron. _Ron._ Draco opened his eyes in panic, seeing Ron's smug smirk. Oh _no_.

Draco sat up, gently shoving Harry off of his chest, the clingy bastard. He mumbled something incoherent about getting dressed and scurried out of Harry's room, face beet red. Great. Now Ron was going to tell Hermione and probably Blaise, who would tell Pansy. Everyone in their year, and probably others, would know by breakfast that he'd woken up in Harry's bed. Wonderful.

Draco was one of the first of their year at the breakfast table. Mandy, he was pretty sure that was her name, was sullenly chewing on a slice of bread, staring into space. Draco tried to eat quickly to avoid the mass of gossiping eighth-years, but of course he had no such luck. No sooner had he sat down than he heard Blaise and Neville come rushing in after him. 

"Give it to me straight, Connor. Did you really sleep with Harry?"

"Neville, if he's shagging the golden boy, that's hardly straight, is it?"

"No! Guys. Harry and I aren't shagging. Shove off." From the glint in Blaise's eye, Draco knew he would have no such luck.

"Not a chance, silly boy. I'm gonna pry the dirty details out of those cute little hands."

Draco sighed, exasperated. He knew Blaise was not going to let up, and it seemed he was a bad influence on Neville, who was looking at Draco just as smugly. "Look, we both couldn't sleep so we were sat up talking and just fell asleep, okay?" Draco hoped that was enough detail to sate his friends, but not too little to make them ask more questions. He shoved some grapes in his mouth so maybe he wouldn't have to talk anymore. "Noffing happened," he managed to get out around the grapes. 

Before Blaise could say anything else, Pansy appeared next to Draco, and Hermione across from them a second later. 

"Spill," they both said in unison. If Draco wasn't so stressed, he'd have been creeped out.

"Like I just said, nothing happened!" Draco didn't think he'd ever blushed harder in his life.

"Look, before Ron and Harry get down here," Hermione began, "we just want you to know we support you guys." Draco sucked in a surprised breath. "And," she said, not letting him interrupt, "even if nothing is happening, we just want to say that it'd be fine if it was." Hermione was looking at him intensely.

"I know it's fine," Draco said with a glare, not wanting them to thing he had some sort of internalized homophobia going on.

Before the conversation had the chance to go even farther south, Neville and Blaise shifted over, and Harry was suddenly sitting in their place, with Ron taking his usual seat next to Hermione. Some discussion was started about Hagrid's newest magical creature, and the teasing was momentarily forgotten. Neither Draco nor Harry risked a glance at the other, but Draco felt Harry's knee bump his gently. 

He bumped back.

\----

As the end of the fall semester approached, nearly everyone was bursting with nerves. So Pansy, genius that she was, decided to throw a party. Well, it was more of a gathering with alcohol and food, but what more do you need to take your mind off of exams?

Every eighth year was in attendance, even Hermione. Terry and Neville arrived, already high on some smoked plant no one had heard of, and soon everyone was at least a little tipsy from the wine-infused pastries Padma brought, as well as the spiked punch curtesy of Blaise. The common room had been arranged so that there was a large empty space in the center with a table covered in snacks off to the side. 

Soon, the entire common room was full of drunken laughter and a faint smokey haze. Pansy dragged everyone to the center and made them sit down in a circle.

"We're playing party games! Who has one?" Pansy shrieked a little too loudly.

Dean hiccuped, "Seamus taught me a muggle one a couple years ago. 's called I Have Never Ever or something like that. You take a shot when you've done the thing the person says." His explanation shouldn't have made sense, but the drunk teenagers apparently couldn't tell. Murmurs of assent filled the room, so Dean began the game.

"I have never ever...gone skinny dipping!"

Pansy, Michael, and all the Hufflepuffs took a shot.

"My turn!" Lisa shouted. "I haven't ever...never ever...used a spell-corrector quill!"

Ron, Harry, Lisa, and a few others downed their shots. Lisa was giggling, so hers mostly just ran down her chin, which Hermione seemed to find hilarious.

As they went around the circle, the statements inevitably gravitated towards more personal topics.

"Never have I ever kissed Ginny Weasley," Hermione said with a grin at Ron, who looked quite flustered as he saw Harry, Dean, Michael, Neville, and Mandy all take shots. 

"Wha--? You've all put hands on my sister?" Ron sounded quite dramatically outraged, but no one could take him seriously with his ears that red. Everyone was laughing too hard, anyway. Draco knew now that Harry and Ginny had broken up, but seeing him drink sent a twinge of jealousy twisting in his stomach. The alcohol made it difficult for him to shove it away like he usually did. 

The alcohol also made it easier for him to have dangerous conversations with himself that he wouldn't be able to handle when sober. _Harry's been pressed against my side all night. I think he likes me, too._ Yeah, maybe he does, but it doesn't matter. He can't. _Why not? You like him too. He's cute. Kiss him._ No. He doesn't know who I really am. _He knows your personality. Your true self. The only thing he doesn't know is your face._ That's the problem! We wouldn't even be friends if he knew my face.

These thoughts bounced back and forth in his head like that muggle game Pong until he felt Harry nudging him in his side.

"I think you're falling asleep. Wanna turn in?"

In that moment, it was all Draco could do to not stare at Harry's mouth as he spoke, so he just nodded his consent and Harry helped lift him to his feet. "Sorry guys, I think we're gonna turn in. Connor is asleep on his feet, and I'm pretty pissed." Harry ignored the sloppy wolf whistles as he steered his friend up the stairs and into Draco's bedroom. 

Draco flopped down on his bed practically face first. He was gonna feel it in the morning for sure. He saw movement by the door and realized Harry was leaving.

"Stay."

Harry froze, then slowly turned around to look at Draco, seeing his arm stretched out towards himself. "You sure?" he whispered.

"Yeah. Get back over here, git."

Harry crawled in next to Draco, draping himself over his taller friend, and Draco sighed in contentment. He knew the comfort wouldn't last, but he wanted to enjoy it in this moment. His exhausted brain couldn't come up with a reason why he shouldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one big long scene of angst <3

This time, no one barged in to wake them up. It was a Saturday, and everyone was most definitely hung over, so Draco supposed he had Pansy to thank for his lack of a rude awakening. And for the fact that Harry was currently passed out practically on top of him. Draco brushed the wild dark hair off Harry's forehead and gently thumbed at the scar there. He'd always wanted to touch it but had never gotten the chance. He hesitantly pressed his lips to the scar before carefully extracting himself from Harry's limbs and standing up. He fished around in his trunk for a small vial of hangover cure to leave next to Harry on the nightstand, then he headed down to breakfast with a vial for himself. Draco didn't want to leave his bed, didn't want to leave Harry, but he figured staying would give himself too much false hope. He couldn't have Harry. That was that.

That Monday, end of term exams began, so it was another two weeks before Draco was able to have a proper conversation with any of his friends. Everyone was too busy studying ingredient lists and counterspells to pay any attention to another person. Draco figured Hermione and Ron somehow found the time, but that was neither here nor there. Finally, on the Friday of his last exam, Draco was able to collapse onto his bed with a contented sigh. He was done for the semester. Draco knew Harry was just finishing up his last exam at that moment, so he made the trek down to the kitchens to pick him up a treacle tart. 

When he made it back upstairs, he found Harry already collapsed on Draco's bed. He smiled at the adorable git. He couldn't help it.

"Brought you something." 

Harry's mouth broke in to that stupid toothy grin of his as he grabbed the tart. "How'd your exams go? I feel like I haven't seen you in a month!"

Draco laughed. "I'm no Hermione, but I think they went well."

"Are you going home for the winter holidays? Back to the U.S.?"

"No, I'm staying here. Too far to apparate, and I didn't rent a portkey in time." Draco hated how easy it was for him to lie on the spot like this. He wished he could just talk to Harry without the barrier of the stupid polymorph spell. 

Harry must have sensed his frustration, though he clearly interpreted it incorrectly. "You could come with us to the Weasley's. I'm sure they'd love to have you." 

"I appreciate it, Harry, but shouldn't Ron be the one to invite me to his family's house?" They wouldn't want a lying, ex-Death Eater at their house, anyways. 

"Don't worry about it. I'll bring it up to him tomorrow at breakfast. He's obviously gonna be fine with it."

Draco felt the panic building up in his chest, the traitorous emotions clawing his throat again. "Harry, I can't ask that of you. I'll be fine here by myself." Draco looked anywhere but Harry's face. 

"Yeah, but I'd miss you."

Draco couldn't breathe. He chanced a glance at Harry's face, but all he saw was brutal honesty. _I can't do this._

"I'd miss you, too."

And then Harry's hands were in his hair and their mouths were pressed together, moving against each other, and it felt _so good_ and Harry was in his lap and Draco couldn't breathe as his tongue touched Harry's and they both gasped into the kiss. Draco's mind was running faster than it ever had in his life and he _couldn't breathe._

Draco placed a hand on Harry's chest, breaking the kiss. "Harry, I'm sorry--I can't--you're just--this is--"

"Breathe, Connor."

"That's not my name!"

Both boys froze, their eyes locked together. _Fuck._

"What are you talking about?"

There was clearly no point in trying to take it back. Harry wasn't an idiot. Draco closed his eyes and gently pushed at Harry so he'd get off his lap. Harry, who was waiting for him to say something, anything, to explain what was going on, trying so hard not to look betrayed. 

"Harry. I promise I'm going to tell you what's going on, but you have to promise not to interrupt until I'm done, okay?"

Harry slowly nodded his assent, and Draco began, allowing his English accent to return. 

"I'm not Connor Michaelson. I'm not an American exchange student. I've always been a Hogwarts student, but my family was on the wrong side of the war. I realized that too late. I wanted to come back to school, finish my education so I could at least try to get a proper job, but I didn't think I could handle the judgement. My parents were well-known supporters of V-Voldemort, and I didn't want everyone to look at me with all that hate. I talked to McGonagall about it and she let me attend as Connor. I figured I'd just stick to the shadows and finish school without making it a big deal, but then you went and befriended me. And how could say no to you? I think I had feelings for you even then, but I didn't know. I swear I didn't. I wasn't trying to hurt you; you have no idea how much it hurt to hide all this from you, from the others. And now you're looking at me like you're afraid so _please_ say something, Harry." 

Harry's startled, confused, betrayed expression didn't change. "I thought you said not to interrupt?"

"Yes, well, I'm panicking now, you prat, so please say something."

"I never saw you take Polyjuice, though. How do you have someone else's face?"

"I developed a spell to replicate the effects without having to recast every few hours."

"Who are you?"

There it was. The inescapable question Draco had been avoiding. 

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise."

Draco reached into his robes for his wand, wishing selfishly that some big natural or magical disaster would happen at that moment so he wouldn't have to do this. Alas, no such luck came as Draco began the incantation that reversed the spell's effects on his body. Slowly, Harry's eyes widened in recognition ( _and please let that not be horror_ ) as Draco's platinum blond hair, pale skin, and gray eyes began to surface. By the time the counterspell was completed, Draco was doing everything in his power to stop the tears he could feel filling his eyes from falling.

" _Malfoy?_ "

The whispered question was all it took for Draco to let the tears fall. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

But, as Draco reached out to Harry, not sure what he was reaching for, just that he needed to hold onto something, _anything_ , Harry was no longer there. Instead, he was across the room reaching for the door, pulling it open, leaving. Draco curled in on himself and allowed himself to break.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i like neville guys

Harry didn't come back to the common room that night, or at least Draco never saw him return. Draco never fell asleep that night; he just laid there, curled up in his own sweat and tears. The next day was the start of the winter holidays, and no one was expecting Draco, so he never got up. Pansy and Blaise may have stopped in to say goodbye for the next few weeks, but he wasn't sure. Draco didn't know how much time had passed before he noticed the uncomfortable rumbling in his empty stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to get up, let along go all the way to the kitchens.

Harry's betrayed expression wouldn't leave him alone, never mind the fact that Draco still tortured himself thinking of how it felt to kiss the darker-skinned boy. It was almost worse, knowing now _exactly_ what he could never have. Draco suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. He managed to conjure a small rubbish bin, but all his empty stomach could do was dry heave. He tossed the bin away in defeat.

It was then he heard a soft knock on his door. Draco didn't know how much of the day had passed, but he'd assumed everyone who was leaving had already gone. Maybe it was a house elf trying to tidy up, but he didn't think they knocked. Draco hastily recast the polymorph spell, then grunted to tell whoever it was he was there and to enter. To his surprise, Neville's face appeared from behind the door.

"Hey. Figured since we're both staying here over the holidays, maybe you'd wanna grab dinner?"

"No offense Neville, but I don't think I can move." It wasn't much of a stretch to put on the sickest look he could muster. Neville didn't seem surprised to see him like this, but he didn't comment either way.

"I'll bring you up some pudding."

"Thanks, Neville."

\----

The next few days blurred together. Neville sometimes knocked, bringing a banana or a sandwich with him. Sometimes he just showed up without saying anything, settled himself onto the windowsill with a muggle notebook and drew quietly until dawn peaked through the blinds. On the fourth day, Draco finally spoke again, asking to see what was in the notebook. Neville showed him sketches of plants and some of the other eighth-years. Draco didn't know Neville drew. 

"Whatever happened, Harry will come 'round."

Draco blinked. How much did Neville know?

"He didn't say what happened, but I've known Harry for a long time. He fights for what he wants. And he cares about you, so things will get sorted eventually."

Draco bowed his head. "He _cared_ , but I doubt he does anymore. I'd be surprised if he ever spoke to me again."

Neville chuckled, seeming completely at ease. "He's never been able to stay away from you for long. He isn't gonna start now."

_Huh?_

"Oh come on, Malfoy. You aren't exactly subtle."

_WHAT?_

"Your insults and banter may have lost their edge this year, but you never dropped the old Malfoy flair. You latched onto Harry the moment he arrived--don't deny it. You were always near the top of our year in academics. The only things that changed this year were your face and your attitude, so it wasn't hard to figure out." Neville grinned, his smirk seeming familiar. "That, and Blaise told me that night after the party when he was super drunk."

Draco let out the breath he'd apparently been holding. "You aren't pissed at me?"

Neville shook his head, not breaking eye contact.

"But I was horrible to you. I don't get it. I never even apologized. I am sorry, by the way, if that wasn't clear."

"I was pissed, when I first found out. I almost told Harry. But it was late, and I decided to sleep on it. The next morning at breakfast, you were handing out hangover potions, and I still couldn't reconcile the old you with the you I was now friends with. The only option was that you'd changed willingly. And I truly believe you have, Draco. I wouldn't be sticking around if I didn't."

Draco finally met Neville's eyes with his tear-filled ones. Before he could talk himself out of it, Draco stood up and crossed the room, wrapping Neville in the tightest hug he could manage. Maybe he wouldn't lose all his friends because of this.

\----

The day before classes began again in January, Draco was jittery with nerves. He hadn't written to Harry, afraid any sort of contact would be unwelcome. Ron and Hermione had sent one letter together, telling him that while they were Harry's friends first, they would like to hear Draco's side when they returned. They were all supposed to arrive today, and Draco wasn't sure what he should do. 

Everyone apparently showed up while he and Neville were eating lunch in the Great Hall, because when he returned to his room, he was met with two Gryffindors standing stiffly by his bed. Draco swallowed the down the bile and tried a greeting.

"H-hey, guys. What can I...do for you?" Great. He was a stumbling mess. Wonderful.

"Connor," began Hermione. So Harry hadn't told them. Interesting. "We understand that the nature of yours and Harry's...argument...is private."

"But," Ron jumped in. "We need to know if we need to kick your ass. So spill. What happened?"

Draco tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't immediately expose himself. "I'd been lying to him. I told him the truth before the holidays and he took it about as well as I expected. It was entirely my fault."

Ron looked like he was about to say something in response, but at that moment, a voice passing outside Draco's room caught their attention.

"Ron? 'Mione, where'd you guys go?"

No, no no no nono _no_ , he wasn't ready for this yet! Then, Harry was in front of the door, and Draco involuntarily held his breath. Their eyes locked briefly before Draco yanked his own away to stare at the floor. Hermione's voice broke the silence.

"Harry. We were--" She cut herself off as Harry continued down the hall without another word. So much for confronting the issue. Draco felt relief and want battling themselves in his chest.

"Listen, mate," Ron spoke up. "He'll talk to you eventually. Don't give up just yet." With an awkward, friendly slap on his shoulder, Ron left, followed quickly by a slightly flustered Hermione. Draco couldn't help but doubt Ron's words. Harry would never forgive him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some talking finally happens

Classes turned out to be a blessing, as they dragged Draco's mind away from Harry for at least a little while. Draco spent as much time as he could with Blaise, Pansy, and Neville, because if he was alone, there was no one to speak over his thoughts. The next few days, Draco did his best to through himself into his schoolwork. He tried so hard to ignore Harry, to pretend he didn't see him across the common room. It didn't work very well, but there wasn't much Draco could do about it.

After a particularly challenging day, Draco was tired of the spell. He was tired of hiding his face, tired of lying. He gave up on the essay he wasn't writing, packed up his things, and headed to his room. Draco pushed open his door, counterspell prepped for when the door shut. However, the spell fizzled out from his lips when he realized Harry was sitting on his bed. He was wearing a maroon sweater with a gold "H" emblazoned on the chest, along with some pajama pants. He was holding one of Draco's throw pillows tightly to his chest. The boys locked eyes for the first time in a week.

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco grunted in discomfort. "Please don't call me that," he whispered.

"It's your name, isn't it?" Harry didn't look mad, at least. That was good. Right?

"I don't like being associated with my family name," Draco admitted after a moment's pause. "Hence the new face."

Harry's eyes got a far-away look, as if he was thinking more than seeing. "Can...would you drop it for a bit?"

Quickly checking to make sure the door was closed, locked for good measure, Draco dropped the spell, his hand shaking. Slowly his well-known features began to return, and soon Draco Malfoy stood in front of Harry Potter, trying not to look as terrified as he felt.

Harry made a sound, like he was releasing a held breath. "I'm sorry."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "What for?" He gingerly moved close enough to sit on the bed, but stayed as far back as he could. Harry's eyes followed his movements.

"I know we should've had a proper conversation about...this, before now, but I don't think I could've stopped myself from shouting. I'm still not sure I can."

"I don't blame you." Draco's voice sounded small in his own ears. _At least it's my own voice._

Harry finally broke his steady eye contact to study his hands, and Draco felt a release of pressure, but the eyes snapped back up immediately.

"I need to know what of our...friendship was real."

"Everything. All of it, except for my name and face." Draco forced himself to meet Harry's eyes, trying to communicate his truthfulness. 

Harry seemed to be struggling with a thought, so Draco let the silence sit for a moment until the other boy could speak again.

"Why did you tell me when you did?"

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, building up the courage to answer honestly. This was the question he dreaded most but was, at the same time, the most important.

"I couldn't have a relationship with you if you thought I was someone else."

"Wait, so it wasn't because you didn't want me to kiss you?" Harry's eyes were blown wide, and Draco was very confused.

"Er, no? The kiss made me realize I didn't want to lie to you anymore, I suppose." _Wait, did Harry think..._ "Did you think it was some elaborate rejection?"

Suddenly, Harry wouldn't meet his eyes. "A little, yeah," he mumbled. 

"Merlin, Harry, no! Your friendship means literally everything to me. And," Draco clenched his shaking hands, "I'll take anything else you'll give me. Everything I said to you as Connor still holds true now. And I forgive you," he added. "I forgive you for everything you did to hurt me because I know you now, and I know you regret it. I know you didn't mean what happened that day in the bathroom, and know it's too much to ask that you try to forgive me for the part I played in the war, and for everything I did to you since we were eleven, and for listening to the purist bullshit my father taught me, and I'm sorry I didn't get to this point faster. I'm so sorry Harry, so sorry, I'm--"

Draco's voice cut out as warm arms wrapped him in a tight hug. He gripped back just as tightly, burying his face in Harry's neck. He heard Harry muttering into his neck, but he couldn't distinguish any words. As they pulled apart, Harry was still talking as he cupped Draco's face with his hand. "Draco, of course I forgive you! Of course I do. And I'm sorry, too. I'm so sorry. I know you've changed, and I love you for it."

Harry nearly choked as he realized what he said. Draco could only stare back. "You...really?"

"...Yeah, I do."

"I love you, too."

This time, as their lips found each other again, it was gentler, less frantic than the last time. It felt like more of a reassurance, that neither of them was going anywhere. The press of lips slowed, and the two boys sat on the bed, their foreheads pressed together, comforted by the proximity of the other. 

All of a sudden, Harry grinned. "Y'know, you're a great kisser, Connor."

"Oh fuck off, Potter."

_Fin_


End file.
